


and the history books forgot about us

by avosettas



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Drabble Collection, F/M, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Pre-Relationship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas
Summary: ...and the bible didn't mention us, not once.// APH Rare Pair Week 2020
Relationships: America/Lithuania (Hetalia), Austria/Switzerland (Hetalia), Belarus/Norway (Hetalia), Finland/Norway (Hetalia), France/Scotland (Hetalia), Iceland/Liechtenstein (Hetalia), Norway/Romania (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	1. flowers, iceliech

**Author's Note:**

> prompts + ships are in chapter titles

“You have to wrap it around again, like this,” Elise takes his hand and maneuvers his fingers gently until the three dandelions she’s given him look… something like what she’s got in her hands. 

“Are you alright, Emil? Your face is so red.” 

“It’s, ah, sunburn. I burn easily,” he lies, ducking his head to try and add another dandelion. 

“Oh, we should have brought sunscreen…” When she looks up at the sky, Elise’s hair blows back gently to frame her head like a halo. She’s wearing a pink ribbon in it today. Emil stares. 

Then he catches himself, feels his face burn again, and says, “Yeah, uh, yeah, maybe.”


	2. thunderstorms, ameliet

“Why New Jersey?” 

America grins at him, still trying to spread out the blanket against the warm wind. “The Jersey shore, dude! You go to a beach, it’s gotta be the shore!” 

Lithuania grabs the edge of the blanket when it flutters toward him and grabs it. America pulls down his end and sets his shoes on one corner, and their bag on the other. Lithuania hadn’t taken his shoes off as they’d walked onto the sand from the street, so now he toes off his shoes and places one on each corner. 

America flops onto the blanket immediately after, and gets sand all over it. “Also, fuck Florida Man, dude.” 

“What?” 

“It’s a joke,” America replies, rolling onto his back. He stretches his toes a few times, then points up at the sky. “Ooh, we might not have a lot of time here, look.” 

Lithuania does. The sky far down the beach is dark and gray, but here it’s nice and blue, with a few wispy white clouds. “Will that come this way?” 

“Mm, weather goes… what, east to west? No, wait, it’s west to east. And storms tend to come in from the north.” He points to the ocean. “That’s east, so that’s comin’ from the north… Yeah, it’s gonna hit us.” 

“That’s a shame,” Lithuania replies, digging his toes into the sand. He supposes he could drag America to his country for a dip in the Baltic, at some point. 

“Alright, let’s - oh, shit!” As America speaks, the rain starts falling. And as they scramble to put their shoes on and fold the blanket, the wind blows cold and the rain falls even harder, right into their faces. 

Then the thunder starts. Or the waves, Lithuania isn’t quite sure. 

“Fuck, fuck, shit -” 

“Stop trying to fold it, let’s just go!” 

They’re at least at the street when the first lightning strikes, which is good, because they’re no longer the tallest things around. The Jersey shore is covered in tall, rental houses.

America opens the trunk to his car jerkily and throws everything in, and then shoves Lithuania in, too. Then he slams it shut. Lithuania rights him and falls over into the backseat as America gets into the front. 

Right as he shuts the door and Lithuania makes it into the front seat, the rain becomes torrential, and it thunders again. 

“Well,” America says, dripping rainwater onto his steering wheel as he cranes his neck to look at the sky. “That’s one way to take a swim.”


	3. stars, norfin

The night is silent - even Norway’s footfalls are muffled in sock feet, and he hardly makes any noise passing from the bedroom to the kitchen to the porch. 

Which is fine and all, except for the fact that it scares the _shit_ out of Finland. 

“Sorry,” he says when he sees Finland jump, but he doesn’t look all that sorry, tired eyes still lidded and hard to read. “Hardly aurora season, hm. No sunspots.” 

“No, I guess not,” Finland leans back on his hands, which are red with cold, and feels Norway settle behind him, grabbing his freezing hands with hands that are only slightly warmer. “The stars are out though.” 

“Hm,” Norway agrees, or maybe he just says it to make some sort of noise, but he scoots himself forward so his chest is flush to Finland’s back and he’s able to see the sky from under the roof of their porch too. “Still miss the auroras, though.” 

“And when the auroras come, you’ll say you miss the stars, I’m sure of it, Norja.”


	4. letters, scotfra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> france has been stated in canon to only speak french, so he refrences the other countries by their french names
> 
> the alliance being referred to is the auld alliance

Spring, as always, brought milder temperatures that allowed France to open his windows wide for the breeze. 

It also, of course, brought rain, and the occasion of spring cleaning. 

So now France stood precariously on a stool, reaching up into the back of his closet to retrieve boxes of old clothes, trinkets from past times, things he’d decided were better unseen and untouched. Most were labeled - _gas masks, dried roses from_ Espagne, _old cookbooks_ from centuries long gone… 

There was one unlabeled one. It was an old, wooden box with an ill-fitting lid, and stuck into the corner was a rotted thistle, the flower itself long dead. 

Écosse, then. His national flower. 

France opens it gingerly. A few cobwebs come free as he pulls the lid away from the box proper, and the rotten thistle falls out. Inside are letters, opened long ago but tied back closed, their wax seals betraying them. 

At the very bottom are some that were never opened. The wax is still sealed. 

France knows what the opened ones said. He read them millions of times during their alliance. Every time Écosse was away, he read through the old ones, and when their alliance ended he read through them again and again until he was sick of them. Frankly, he can’t believe he’s kept them this long. 

It’s been nearly 500 years. 

He goes to the kitchen and retrieves a knife, and then, carefully, he opens the seal on one of the unopened letters. It begins -

_Dearest -_

And France folds the letter back up and closes the envelope. Écosse is so crass now. It’s hard to remember a time when he was so… sweet. 

Maybe he still is. France wouldn’t know, because he hasn’t talked to him in years. 

He replaces the box, rotten thistle and all, and then sticks it deep, deep back into his closet. The letters can wait another year.


	5. soulmates, norbela

The scrawl on Natalya’s hand had been there as long as she remembered, and it pissed her off. 

Who was fate to tell her who she would end up? 

But on her right hand in loopy cursive there was a name, and god forbid she go against fate, or whatever bullshit. 

_Sigurd Thomassen_ , it said. 

She knew Sigurd. Vaguely. He was in her costume design class, and she often saw him sitting on stoops with his best friend as he smoked. _With_ being a… vague term, honestly. He was more like a cat, staying a few feet away. 

She would see them as she walked back from class late at night, because her chem lab ran late, and Matthias Densen would be smoking pot on the stoop of the dorms - far away enough that it wasn’t an asthma risk, apparently, as that was his reason for sitting _just_ out of the light. Sigurd would be closer, reading in the faint light created by the lobby and every so often he would throw an insult at Matthias. 

She’d seen the small, blocky writing on his hand that composed her name, just once when he’d held the door for her in costume design. Her name was tiny on his hand. 

Now Natalya was bundled up against the winter chill, her scarf practically engulfing her. She wore no gloves, because she was too stubborn to admit that her sister was right, and she should be wearing gloves. 

Tonight, Sigurd is alone. He is also bundled up - his own scarf is badly knitted, and he is wearing gloves, which would make Katya happy. 

“Natasha,” he says as she passes her ID by the lock on the dorm building’s door. 

“That’s Natalya to you,” she replies coldly, but she does stop, pocketing her ID and holding the lobby door open with her foot. 

“Sorry?” 

“Natasha is a pet name and I have not given you permission to use it,” Natalya kicks the door, and it opens a bit, before shoving back on her toes. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“Your name is on my hand.” 

“And yours is on mine. So what?” 

Sigurd has the grace to not look confused, he just blinks with those moody eyes of his. “So, do you want to go out?” 

Natalya spits at him, and turns on her heel. 

~

“You _spit_ at him?” Toris sounds surprised, but he shouldn’t; she once broke all the fingers on his left hand. 

“Yes,” Natalya replies, slicing her burrito with perhaps more vigor than needed. “Who told him? He didn’t even know I existed two days ago!” 

“Tasha, your burrito…” Katya says mournfully as some beans splatter onto the table.

“Everyone is in the student directory, it’s required,” Eduard points out, not acknowledging the burrito, nor Katya. “And you do have class with him.” 

Natalya stands without a word and leaves the maimed burrito despite Toris’s protest. 

Sigurd sits on the other side of the cafeteria with his friends; she only knows Timo and Matthias. There are two other people at the table too, one younger student who looks like Sigurd, and one angry looking man who looks kind of like Matthias. 

“You.” 

“Me,” Sigurd replies, picking at his salad all the while. 

Natalya does not acknowledge Timo scooting his chair away from her. She merely says to Sigurd, “If you want to go out, get me at six o’ clock tonight, because it’s the only night this week I’m free.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Sigurd replies. “Dinner?” 

“Dinner. No movies. I hate movies.” 

“I’ll see you at six then.” He nods. Timo scoots even further from Natalya. 

Natalya turns on her heel to leave, just as she had the night before, but this time she doesn’t spit.


	6. music, swissaus

“I already hate this. I could be doing so many more productive things.” 

“It’s date night and you promised,” Austria replies boredly. He’s so used to Switzerland’s complaining by now that it barely bothers him. “Besides, Belgium recommended it.” 

“Why are we watching something _Belgium_ recommended?” Switzerland fumes a bit, settling heavily into the couch. On the screen, Julie Andrews sings about hills and their being alive or, something to that effect. Austria’s not so sure he gets it. 

“Look, I want to watch it, so we’re going to watch it.” 

“Fine.” 

By the near end, Austria can sort of hear Switzerland… humming. Maybe. 

“Are you -” 

“I like this song!” His face is bright red. “I’ve heard it before, it’s nice!” 

When it ends, Switzerland pouts. Not noticeably or anything, but Austria has known him too long to not notice.

“Oh, hush. They get to your place at some point,” Austria chides. He flips over the DVD case that he rented from the library - the movie is nearly over. 

When it does finally end (much later than intended, as Switzerland rewinds back to “Edelweiss” twice, and holds the remote out of Austria’s grasp), he rewinds it again.


	7. magic, romnor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not... super happy w this one. romnor was always my choice for the magic prompt, but they're hard to write.
> 
> also, chose nyo!norway since huldres are usually female

Grunting is what first alerts Ingrid to Andrei’s presence, and it turns out to be because he’s hauling a child’s wagon full of firewood. With his little brother on top. 

“I assumed you would borrow Toris’s truck,” Ingrid says, lips quirking up a bit. Besides that, the only outward sign that she’s amused is the twitch of her tail from beneath her skirts. “But it would be stupid to assume you would do something smart.” 

“I tried,” Andrei whines, flopping onto his stomach on the ground. 

“Natasha took it!” Aurel chimes from the top of the pile. 

“...Isn’t she coming later?” 

Andrei makes a sound that might be groaning, but is more likely cursing. 

~ 

They pile the wood up into a vague pyramid sort of shape, and then ring it with the larger logs Natalya brings. Finally, they make a large ring around the whole structure with bricks. 

Natalya nods. “It’ll be a good fire this year.” 

“If Arthur ever shows up,” Ingrid replies, throwing some kindling into the pile. “Where’s -” 

“Indisposed,” Natalya snarls. Her chicken feet tear at the ground as she flexes them. 

“Oh, we’re not talking about your ex, who’s truck you stole to - ow! Ow!” Andrei shrieks as Natalya throws an extra brick at him. Aurel giggles a bit. 

“You people are nightmares,” Ingrid sighs. 

“What on Earth is happening here?” Arthur is the least conspicuous of the four of them (five, counting Aurel, who gets dragged along everywhere), but in his green cloak, he looks more suspicious than the two vampires, the huldre, and the chicken-footed witch combined. 

“Fun,” Natalya replies, dropping more kindling into Andrei’s hair. He aims at her with his fangs. 

“Can we light this? I left my sister with an idiot,” Ingrid interrupts as Natalya backs off. 

“Please,” Arthur agrees. He produces a box of matches from under his cloak, and holds it out to Aurel. 

Natalya snorts. 

“Did you have something to say, Baba Yaga?” Arthur rolls his eyes, only glancing at her as Aurel tries to strike the matches. 

“Oh -” 

“They’re insufferable,” Ingrid says under her breath to Andrei. 

“Mostly Tasha,” he replies with a one-fanged grin. The other one had been knocked out in an… unfortunate fight with Natalya. 

“You and Arthur antagonize her,” Ingrid snorts, leaning into Andrei when he puts an arm around her. 

“Do not.” Across the pile, Natalya is trying to light the fire with magic, while Arthur is helping Aurel try to light it with matches. 

“You do.” 

In front of them, the fire flares to life. Aurel shouts in joy, and Natalya cracks a rare smile. Ingrid adds a flare of her own to it with a flick of one finger, and it sparks, adding its own stars to the cloudy Solstice night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all folks! *kisses!*
> 
> total pairings with norway: 3. he's very shippable. i'm still a dennor hoe, though. 
> 
> find me on tumblr @asriells!


End file.
